


Walking Disasters

by orphan_account



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Nightwing (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: Author is Intoxicated, Mixing Medicine, Multi, Oxycodone, PTSD, Recreational Drug Use, Restless, Self Medicating, Sort of hurt/comfort, THC, trauma response
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-01
Updated: 2019-03-01
Packaged: 2019-11-07 09:10:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17957711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Dick has a close call, so Jason drops by to help.





	Walking Disasters

**Author's Note:**

> It's Mardi Gras in New Orleans which means I've spent the last two days (and will spend the next four) in various dates of intoxication, so have this revelry induced rough draft of a concept that I couldn't complete because king cake flavored Taaka vodka tastes like petit fours.

Dick fell off a roof.

It happened sometimes, to all of them. You could only tempt fate oh so often before fate snatched the breath from your lungs and the confidence from your step. It happened on the trapeze too; one of Dick’s earliest lessons in acrobatics was in falling. Like all fledgling birds, Dick’s instruction began with a toss and then wide empty space. And then, of course, a net. He’d only been a toddler, after all.

Gotham wasn’t strung up with nets. Gotham had vigilantes instead.

Huntress was the one who caught Dick this time. She intercepted him with an _oof_ , and then she cut her shock cord after it’d stretched enough to slow their descent so that they wouldn’t snap back against the building from whence she came or find themselves dangling and vulnerable. They tumbled onto a low concrete roof and pain lit Dick’s left shoulder even as Huntress let out a cry alongside the pop of her shoulder.

When they’d had a moment to swallow back their dry heaving, Dick crawled over and relocated her shoulder without a word. They collapsed onto their backs.

“Hell of a catch,” Dick murmured, his chest rising and falling too quickly. His back pressed against solid rock, but he could still feel the drop in his throat.

“Hell of a fall. What happened?” Helena asked, sitting up. Dick remained firmly planted, his limbs splayed like he was in the midst of a snow angel instead of a panic attack. He opened and closed his legs, just to feel the drag of the concrete against his suited skin.

“Don’t know,” Dick murmured, his stomach lurching as he blinked up at the smog smeared sky. “You alright if I vomit? I’ll make it quick.”

Helena paused, assessing her own state. “Yeah, I’m alright. Go for it, do what you’ve got to do. I’ll give you some privacy.” True to her word, Dick heard the slide of her grapple, right before he heard her cape fluttering in a manufactured breeze.

“N?” Oracle murmured, while Dick emptied his stomach around the side of an HVAC unit. “N, you’re clear to land. Batman and Orphan will wrap up your sector. That shoulder needs ice.”

Dick wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Alright. I’m alright.”

“Wouldn’t doubt it for a moment,” Oracle offered. “But the night’s quiet, and you’re taking up airspace.”

“Yes ma’am,” Dick murmured, before muting his comm and spitting.

When he arrived home, he undressed, showered, and then popped a mild dose of oxycodone. He told himself it was for the pain in his shoulder, but in truth, he couldn’t even settle down on the couch with a mindless cartoon until after the narcotic’s thick haze settled over his nerves.

And then there was a knock at his door, and his bones nearly leaped from his flesh.

He pulled out a knife, one that Slade had gifted him eons ago, and crept towards the front door. He didn’t bother looking through the door’s eye slot; he’d made that mistake once and it’d led to Damian setting Dick’s nose while rattling off the complete history of Dick’s missteps.

Instead, Dick slung the door open, knife at gut level.

On Jason, the knife leveled to about his crotch. Jason, clutching a brown paper bag, raised his eyebrows. “You got a permit for that?” Jason snarked, brushing past Dick to enter. Dick huffed, sheathed the knife, and shut the door.

“It’s a knife,” Dick muttered. Jason set the bag down on the coffee table and unloaded two large sodas, a bag of chips, and a 3”x4” resealable bag crammed full of what appeared to be gummy bears.

“Yeah, it’s bigger than my dick. Prettier too. Did you have it commissioned?”

Dick flushed. “Uh. It was a gift. Is that candy?” he asked, walking over and snatching the bag of gummy bears from Jason. Dick opened the bag, popped a couple of gummies in his mouth, chewed, and then gagged. The pungent skunky scent beneath the vaguely strawberry flavor was unmistakable. Dick swallowed, hard.

“Are those edibles?” Dick squeaked. Jason let out a barking laugh.

“Yeah, dipshit. I heard you fell, thought I’d bring something to treat your nerves. Take a seat. You always eat repackaged candy without thinking?”

Dick blinked and cocked his head as Jason settled down on the couch and kicked up his heels. Despite Jason’s barbs, and perhaps misguided offering, the gesture was terribly sweet. For a moment, Dick was alarmed, and he nearly expected Jason to remove his face and reveal Batmite. But Jason didn’t, and so Dick settled close beside him (but not too close) and soaked in this particular brand of affection.

“I’m fine,” Dick murmured, after half an hour. His head was swimming from the oxy and his contentment. “It wasn’t a bad fall, Helena caught me.”

“Uh-huh,” Jason grunted around a chip. “I saw the Snapchat recaps.”

Dick straightened. “There were witnesses?”

Jason turned up the television. “People notice when birds start falling from the sky, Goldie. Now stop talking and watch the show.”

Dick shut up and watched the television, face burning now that he knew there was video evidence of his incident.

As the episode ended and a new one began, the warmth that draped across Dick’s nose sunk into his skin, slid beneath layers of tissue and muscle to soak into his porous bones and soften the edges of his consciousness.

“Oh,” Dick murmured. Jason grinned at him wolfishly. The grin tugged at Jason’s skin and pressed his eyes tight so precisely, that Dick reached out and traced the lines to better appreciate how they connected into a fully-fledged facial expression. Jason’s eyebrows crawled up, towards his hairline, and Dick burst into giggles.

“Jason,” Dick mouthed the name, marveling over how slowly but solidly it slid from his lips. He was so delighted, he repeated, “Jason.”

“Yeah?” Jason snorted. “Sounds like you’re feeling it. Didn’t think two would do you in, given you’ve been sucking on painkillers since grade school.”

Sucking. Dick wanted to suck on something. He reached for the bag of candy, but Jason caught his wrist. Dick’s skin sparked like the flicker of a lighter where Jason’s fingers touched.

“No more of that,” Jason chided. “Have a chip.”

Dick made a face. He enjoyed the sensation, so he made another face. He burst into laughter and leaned back, letting the blood slosh in his skull. He accepted the chip that Jason slid into his mouth, but only to lick away the salt and return to Jason’s palm. Jason flinched back, letting the chip fall to the floor.

“Gross,” Jason whined. “Dick, get your shit together.”

“Can’t,” Dick bubbled. The salt burned his tongue delightfully. “Better than the oxy.”

“Oh, shit, dude,” Jason groaned. “When’d you take the oxy?”

Dick shrugged, his shoulders cresting and crashing like waves against a rocky beach. He couldn’t even feel his injury anymore. He wasn’t completely convinced he had shoulders or any joints. Like a cat, he’d devolved into all ligament and muscle, flesh and electricity.

“You’d let me know if I needed to get your stomach pumped, yeah?” Jason fretted, prodding at Dick, tugging at Dick’s clothes and limbs. Jason lifted Dick, and Dick’s knife clattered to the ground.

“Yes,” Dick breathed, a truly delightful thought snatching his focus. Satisfied, Jason gently rearranged Dick around a throw pillow.

“I’m going to go get you a glass of water, I’ll be right back,” Jason assured him as he disappeared around the corner, but Dick didn’t need the assurance. He’d come across a brilliant, exciting idea, and he was already clumsily flipping through his phone to enact it.

He’d managed to dial Steve Trevor and Silver St. Cloud before finally selecting the correct contact. The phone rang for hours. It rang for so long that Dick’s fingers atrophied around his cellphone. But then, a low, gravel voice that sent shivers down Dick’s spine, murmured:

“Little bird?”

A more pitched, immediate voice shouted, “Oh, fuck, Dick, put away the cellphone, you wasted asshole.”

The gravel chuckled, and Dick writhed to escape Jason’s clawing fingers.

“What have you done to upset your brother, little bird?” Slade asked.

“Fell off a roof and took narcotics,” Dick confessed, kicking at Jason and missing by a mile. “But the THC was his fault.”

“You’ve made a mess, haven’t you? How do you expect me to ever leave you unattended?”

Dick paused in fending off Jason to retort indignantly, “I’m attended!” and that’s when Jason gained the upper hand enough to snatch away the cell phone.

“Fuck off, Slade,” Jason muttered. “I’ve got it handled. Keep your wrinkly ass home.”

Dick stroked the denim of Jason’s jeans. Jason batted Dick’s hand away, so Dick tugged at the hem of Jason’s shirt instead. Jason was frowning and listening to whatever Slade was telling him, but the phone was quickly losing its shine. Dick wanted Slade there, in the flesh. Dick was too loose and untethered for sex, but Slade was tall and textured and good company.

With a groan of frustration, Dick took off his shirt and rolled to the ground. The carpet felt _divine_ , and so he wiggled and groaned again, with a lilt that made Jason blush.

“I’m hanging up now,” Jason said to the phone. “This is me hanging up.” He tapped the screen and then tossed it at Dick. It bounced off Dick’s knee and Dick whined.

“Ow.”

“Time for bed. Yip, yip, asshole,” Jason said, prodding at Dick’s side. Dick lifted his arms and Jason snorted. “Not a chance. Stand up and ask again.”

Obligingly, Dick clambered to his feet, only to promptly lift his arms again in asking. Jason rolled his eyes but bent over and slung Dick over his shoulder. Dick chirped his excitement.

Dangling upside down was far more fascinating than laying on the ground. Dick ran his hands down Jason’s shirted back, and then he dipped fingers underneath the fabric to stroke Jason’s naked skin. He ran fingertips over the consequential goosebumps. And then he tried to slide his hands lower, but by then Jason reached the bedroom and he threw Dick onto the bed as soon as Dick was within throwing distance. Dick bounced once and then erupted into a wide smile.

“Stay?” he asked, entangling his unmade bedsheets around his naked torso for the sensation. Jason regarded him with a frown.

“Fine but keep your hands to yourself. I don’t need that shit, okay?” Jason muttered, shrugging off his jacket and crawling into Dick’s writhing nest.

“I will!” Dick insisted.

He didn’t, but that was okay. Jason had seen the footage of Nightwing falling, and, once he was sure that Dick was wrapped tight in his drug-induced sleep, he lifted Dick's limp arm and gingerly placed it around his own shoulders before burying his face in Dick's neck and drifting off.  


End file.
